


Maybe Soon

by WeaglesAndBrobeans



Series: ghost stories [3]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Luke whump, Sad, protective Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeaglesAndBrobeans/pseuds/WeaglesAndBrobeans
Summary: Just thinking about how easily Luke was able to will his guitar to himself and deciding it was more meaningful than just a love for music. So I had this little backstory floating around the ol brain.
Series: ghost stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986880
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	Maybe Soon

**Author's Note:**

> How did I get here? I can’t even say. Maybe I just love and adore a himbo and this show has THREE.  
> The following story has some strong language in it and some violence (a schoolyard fight). So just be aware of that as you’re heading in.

Luke never loitered after school. He’d like to blame it on his excitement to get to the studio for practice, but if he were being perfectly honest it was more than that. Put simply, school sucked. The teachers sucked. The students sucked. He hated it.

And maybe. Maybe he didn’t want to give asshats like Josh and Adam leverage or opportunity to mess with him.

As soon as the bell rang, the musician bolted for his locker to load his side-satchel with his math and history books. Adjusting the strap of the guitar slung over his back, Luke shouldered his way through the throng of high school students littering the hallway.

With the doors in sight, he was home free. Except, he wasn’t.

“Hey Pisserson!” came the yell. Luke ducked his head and shouldered on. “Pisserson, props on the rope climb in gym today. Are you good at that cause you spend all your time climbing that tree of a drummer? Heard he loves that shit!”

The comment sent Luke’s stomach rolling. He paused long enough to turn and shout back. “Just cause you can’t get anyone to climb you doesn’t mean you have to be jealous Josh!” before lifting two middle fingers and turning to slam open the double doors to the courtyard.

Three steps and the guitar strap on his chest tightened, whipping him backwards, feet staggering on the cement to maintain his balance. An ‘oof’ escaped his mouth as he ran into the senior holding him hostage by his own guitar.

“You think you’re funny Pisserson?” Josh snarled into his ear. Luke could see Adam circling them in his peripheral.

“I think your breath reeks dude,” wheezed Luke.

In the blink of an eye, Josh stepped back and shoved Luke forward. As he stumbled, Adam stepped forward to effectively trip the shorter teen.

Slamming to the pavement Luke stilled at the sound of a resounding crack. Sliding out from under the strap, he scooted back to survey the damage- a large crack split along the body of his guitar. The moment tilted all the more as a foot came slamming down on the guitar, shattering the instrument.

“My bad,” snorted Adam from above.

Luke saw red.

Leaping to his feet he lunged at the bully, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to pull him down into a waiting fist. Luke swung his leg around to crawl onto Adam’s back, forearm across his classmate’s neck.

“That was my life!” he raged through tears, shaking violently with emotion.

The advantage didn’t last as Josh sucker punched Luke in the kidneys, effectively loosening his grip. Feet on the ground, Luke tried to get his bearings but Josh tripped the smaller brunette and then lunged forward with a merciless kick to the stomach.

Back inside the school, Reggie and Alex were taking their time. Their last class of the day was music and they loved sharing it together. Knowing Luke would run on ahead and start organizing songs for their practice, they felt no need to rush.

“Dude I found this bangin’ club downtown that hosts local bands and I think we’re gonna be able to land a gig there,” enthused Alex as the two sauntered down the hallway.

Reggie grinned as he worked the dial for his locker. “That’s sweet! At this rate, we’re totally gonna take off.”

Before the two could carry on, a rush of students pushed towards the doors. Alex, tall enough to squint over his fellow students tried to make out what had garnered everyone’s attention.

A small blonde tapped Reggie’s shoulder as she passed the two, yelling “Luke’s taking on Adam and Josh!”

The announcement came with far too much glee for their taste, but it did the trick. They were sprinting towards the outer courtyard, fear zinging through them.

Rushing out the doors, they could hear the jeers and shouts of their classmates harmonizing with the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and groans tainting the air.

Alex growled with frustration as he tried to push through the crowd of students. Eager to get to his friend’s side. But just as he broke into the open, Adam grabbed ahold of Luke’s sweat-slicked hair and used it to steer the musicians head into his waiting knee.

Luke collapsed to the cement beside his demolished guitar.

Anxiety lapped at Alex’s chest, but so did fury. “Double teaming someone half your size, are you kidding me?” he seethed, advancing on the two before they could continue their abuse of his friend.

Reggie, broke through the crowd at that moment and gasped wetly at the sight of a motionless Luke.

Before the two could react though, a voice cried out from the throng of students, “teacher!”

Josh and Adam bolted left, leaping the chain link fence that led to the school yard.

Alex bent over without hesitation and scooped Luke into his arms. “We gotta go,” he urged.

He ran as best he could with the weight of his friend in his arms, Reggie in tow behind him.

“Why are we running?” yelped Reggie. “He needs help Alex!”

The comments didn’t slow the blonde drummer. “And get him sent back home? You think that’s what he wants?” challenged Alex.

As they turned the corner into an alley near Reggie’s house and the beachfront, they finally slowed down.

Neither realized they’d left the guitar behind.

Emily Patterson often found herself baking on weekday afternoons. She wasn’t sure when it began, but as long as she can remember she had been welcoming Luke home from school with the enticing smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

“How else will I get you to sit still and tell me about your day?” she used to tease her boy.

Now it was just another unbreakable habit in the wake of her son’s departure.

Roaming around the open kitchen, waiting for the timer to buzz, she would allow herself to pretend it was just another day. She would allow herself to hope that any minute the door would burst open with a tornado of energy and enthusiasm.

The bright tone of the doorbell pulled Emily from her reverie. She pulled off her apron before heading towards the door. Behind it stood a teenage girl.

“Mrs. Patterson?” she asked, eyes darting behind Emily to peek into the home. “Did Luke make it back yet?”

The question tore at Emily. With a shaky breath she smiled tightly at the young girl. “No. He hasn’t,” which wasn’t a complete lie.

“Well, he didn’t get his guitar after,” she hesitated, eyes downward, biting nervously at her lip. “Well he didn’t get his guitar and I know how much it means to him.”

Holding out the instrument, Emily gasped at the sight of the splintered wood.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Can you tell me please?”

The girl hesitated, but ultimately gave in. “These guys um. They broke it. There was a fight. It wasn’t his fault though! He tried to walk away. I saw the whole thing,” she assured, a desperate edge to her tone.

Sucking in a deep breath Emily reached out and took the broken guitar. “Thank you. I appreciate you bringing it here and letting me know.”

The moment the door closed, the tears fell. Her poor boy, hurt and picked on. He’d gotten roughed up before, but to leave his guitar? God she hoped he was okay.

All she wanted to do was bring him in and hold him close, shielded from the world. Regret painted her days and looking at the fractured instrument, she realized she had made a terrible mistake.

She needed to make things right.

Back at Reggie’s house, Alex slowly lowered Luke to the couch. The bassist had assured the house would be empty. A business trip occupied his dad's time and his mom had some old friends in town. “She’ll be out all night getting wine-drunk,” Reggie tried to joke. It fell flat.

Rushing into the bathroom, Reggie piled his hands with antiseptic, gauze, and tape. He paused to look over his battered bandmate before dumping the load on the floor and popping the lid off of the antiseptic.

Alex had never seen Reggie move with such confidence and ease as he dabbed at cuts and smoothed bruise cream on various contusions.

“Dude you’re pretty handy with a med kit,” Alex commented. He’d meant it as a compliment, but the way Reggie paled, he figured maybe it wasn’t such a good thing.

The raven haired boy glanced at Alex with a deep sadness in his eyes, but he turned back to Luke without comment.

Alex sucked in a breath when realization finally dawned. Reggie was familiar with a med kit because he had to be, because home wasn’t exactly a safe place for him all the time. A knot settled in his throat as he looked at his two best friends in the world, hurting. He hated it.

“I wish I could find a way to always protect you both,” Alex whispered hoarsely.

Swallowing thickly, Reggie taped gauze to Luke’s chin. “Sometimes the best we can do is be there for each other in the aftermath.”

When he finished tending to the visible abrasions, Reggie lifted Luke’s shirt to check his ribs. He couldn’t help but to gasp sharply at the sight of the bruising painted across his friend’s abs.

“I’m going to go grab some frozen peas,” he whispered.

Luke was stirring on the couch when Reggie got back. “Hey bud,” he greeted as green eyes, blurry with pain squinted up at him.

“They fucked me up pretty good huh?” Luke groaned, a tilted smile tugging at his lips. It looked more like a grimace.

After the three settled for the night, Luke drifted in and out of consciousness. Just as Alex felt the tug of sleep though, the smaller bandmate shot upright with a yelp.

“What is it?” he demanded, hand reaching helplessly for his friend.

“My guitar,” Luke wailed. “The gig tomorrow. My, my guitar!”

Alex noted the first signs of a panic attack as Luke’s breath grew quick and shallow.

“Luke, you gotta look at me buddy,” he implored. Dipping his head in an attempt to make eye contact with the guitarist. “Look at me. You’re okay. We’ll figure something out. But you’re what’s most important right now. Okay?”

The night had been long and emotional. Luke had awoken in a frenzy several times. At other moments he drifted slowly awake and allowed himself to cry for his guitar and his pain.

When the morning came, Reggie encouraged the group to relocate to the Studio. His mom would be rolling in at any moment and she wasn’t exactly fun to deal with when hungover.

It felt like a slow and awkward three-legged-race as Alex supported Luke towards the large white garage a few blocks down.

The warm dawn settled around them, the sun soaking into their weary shoulders as they drew near.

The group froze though when they reached the garage. In front of the doors sat a large navy blue guitar case with a note taped to the front.

Limping forward, Luke tugged on the note.

‘I know we left a lot unsaid, but I still love you my sweet Luke. Love always, mama’

Luke crumpled to the pavement, tears pooling in his eyes.

A deep sorrow shook him from within and he leaned forward, head on the case, allowing his shoulders to shake with sobs.

Reggie and Alex stood back, bookending the weeping boy like sentinels until the cries came to a stop.

Alex stepped forward to tentatively settle a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a look?” he asked quietly.

Luke lowered the case and flicked open the locks. Pulling open the case he paused at the sight of a stunning six string guitar.

The deep cherry wood grew paler toward the center in a beautiful tone.

He gently pulled the instrument into his lap, running his fingers over the strings. A melancholy tune lilted out into the early morning air.

“Why don’t you go see her?” asked Reggie. “She clearly loves you and misses you. And like, maybe she’s changed her mind!”

Luke paused, eyes vacant for just a moment. “I’m not ready yet Reggie,” he ground out roughly.

“Maybe soon though,” he whispered as his hands caressed the polished wood and the bright metal strings. His bruised hands moved with a near reverence. “Maybe soon.”


End file.
